


Pack Your Bags, You're Coming Home With Me

by CaptEdKenway



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Apple Store, Fanart, Genius Bar, M/M, Mentioned Sheriff Stilinski, Mentions of Suicide, Protective Derek, Stiles is Pushed Out of the Pack, stiles is sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-14
Updated: 2016-12-14
Packaged: 2018-09-08 11:27:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8842939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptEdKenway/pseuds/CaptEdKenway
Summary: Derek looked at him, his heart breaking for the boy. He stood tall, his wolf pacing with the need to protect and comfort. He strode up to him just as Stiles moved forward, towards Derek. Derek enveloped him in a hug while Stiles gripped his shirt tightly, holding on for dear life. Derek cupped the back of Stiles’ head and rocked him, trying to communicate everything he needed to say in that hug. He could hear Stiles mumbling into his neck that he ‘couldn’t do it’, and that was when he noticed the nine millimeter Glock laying on the table.





	

  
 

 

_{Stiles} To: Sourwolf 02/11 23:58_

_Hey Derek…_

Stiles sat on his bed, clothes a mess of dirt, mud, blood and what might have been brain matter from the pixie he smashed. He wasn’t sure, and he really didn’t care anymore. Hadn’t cared for a while really. He typed out his text knowing full well Derek would never see them. But he’d found it somewhat therapeutic to text his old alpha. He could vent about things that were going on that he couldn’t tell anyone else, and knowing Derek either wasn’t getting them or couldn’t be bothered to respond meant he could be more honest in his feelings. Not that he’d ever want Derek to read these. He sure as hell didn’t miss him. He left. Left without saying a word. But stiles doesn’t care. Good for him for getting the hell out of dodge.

He finished up and hit send before throwing the phone onto his night stand. He wasn’t sure how much more of this bullshit he could take. He was tired and sore and done. So done. Done with a capital D folks. He yanked his clothes off and threw them in the direction of his hamper, not really caring when they missed. He’d get them in the morning. His dad had a night shift so he didn’t think twice about shuffling out of his room naked and out into the hallway towards the bathroom. He walked in, avoiding the mirror of course, and turned the taps on to just this side of scalding before stepping in and going through the ritual of washing supernatural shit off of his body. While the water felt good it always meant his mind relaxed enough to wander into forbidden territory. No matter how hard he tried he couldn’t avoid the thoughts swirling through his mind.

He rested his hands on the wall in front of him and let the hot water rain down on him, washing away the dirt and grime and wishing it could wash away the thoughts in his head just as easily. Why did he continue to do this? Why the fuck did he stay where he wasn’t wanted? The answer was always the same, his dad. As long as his dad was still a citizen of the hell hole that was Beacon Hills, he would continue to put up with the bullshit the pack put him through and keep on fighting the monster of the week in order to protect his dad.

* * *

 

_{Stiles} To: Sourwolf 06/29 15:01_

_Hey Sourwolf…_

Stiles sat on the bed, scratching at the skin around the edges of the cast, waiting for the nurse to discharge him. His dad was out settling up with the insurance papers or some such thing and Stiles just really wanted to go home. He also really wished he had a stiff drink to help take the edge off. Unfortunately his dad had found his secret bottle tucked into his underwear drawer. Stiles had honestly thought it would be safe there. Why the hell would his dad be digging through his boxers that may or may not have been recently washed anyways? Turns out his dad was a little more on the ball then Stiles had given him credit for. He’d sat there at the kitchen table like he was five years old, his dad going from irate, to disappointed, to bereft until finally settling on an uncomfortable understanding. It didn’t stop him from pouring the golden liquid down the drain in front of him and threatening him with future breathalyzer tests though. Stiles just made sure to hide the new bottle outside and allow enough time to pass before being able to fake the test. He was a cop’s kid, he knew how it all worked.

Tonight though, tonight he’d give anything for a drink. Anything to wipe away the hurt of being told once again that he was the weak human. The weak human the pack was always having to protect. They were supposed to be best friends damn it. How many times had Stiles saved one of them? How much of his life had he devoted to the pack? Yeah he wasn’t a wolf, as he was reminded of on an almost daily basis, but still he was far from the weak human. He was no damsel in distress, even if he didn’t heal like the rest of them. He picked at a piece of the wrapping sticking out from the edge of the cast, looking up and pasting on a fake smile when the bubbly nurse came in and told him he could leave.

* * *

 

_{Stiles} To: Sourwolf 09/15 03:13_

_Yo Derek…_

The bat swung down, smashing into the table. Papers, some dirty dishes and other junk flew up into the air or flew off onto the floor to shatter. But Stiles didn’t care. He swung again and rained his fury down on the innocent desk, not caring at all about the cracks he was seeing appear. He needed to destroy something, needed to see something break under his anger. He wasn’t willing to go to prison for murder so instead of going all Negan on the person he felt needed it he decided to take it out on his desk. It was only slightly satisfying watching the desk splinter and finally collapsing on itself several minutes later. Stiles was breathing heavy, sweat dripping down his face as he flung his bat across his room and collapsed down onto his butt on his floor. He brought his knees up and cradled his head as he fought the tears but it was ultimately too much. His shoulders shook as he cried. He simultaneously chided himself for crying over a car while mourning the last physical thing he had of his mom’s. It was a pile of bent, twisted, burning metal off in the woods and Stiles felt like his heart had been stuck right in the middle of it. Watching the chimera blow up his Jeep had been the last straw but when Scott held him back from going after it, telling him he’d only get hurt again, Stiles had felt his rage overflow. It was like watching his mom die all over again.

Long after his tears had dried Stiles still sat, looking at the remains of his desk but not seeing them. He didn’t hear his dad walk in, didn’t hear him take his gun belt off and toss it on the bed before levering himself down onto the floor next to his son. It was only when his dad pulled him into a fatherly hug, tucking his son’s head into his neck that Stiles came to and clung to his dad like his life depended on it. His dad was honestly the only thing he had left. He didn’t know what he would ever do if he lost him, and he never wanted to find out.

* * *

 

_{Stiles} To: Sourwolf 11/23 02:47_

_Derek_

_I, I can’t even…_

Stiles sat on the log in the preserve, in the spot where the Hale mansion used to sit. You’d never know there had once been a house there. Nature had reclaimed the spot beginning when the county had come in and finally demolished the remains. The natural grasses had sprung forth. New trees and bushes had sprouted. Wild flowers dotted the area in a beautiful array of colors and scents.

Stiles saw none of it. He only saw in shades of grey now. Where others saw the beauty in life, Stiles saw only death, despair and destruction. There was no beauty in the world anymore. Life held nothing for him. There was no longer any point. He looked at his phone, at his last text to Derek. He decided one last text to his sourwolf was in order. One last time to tell him his deepest secret. He’d alluded to it in his other texts and it was sad that despite knowing these texts were probably being sent out into the ether somewhere he’d been unable to truly admit his true feelings to himself. What a waste he thought, feeling his eyes water up again. What a fucking waste. But he finished it and quickly hit send before reaching back and throwing his phone as hard as he could out into the woods. The tears were coming freely now as he dug the toe of his shoes into the dirt, his hands shaking slightly. He pulled it out of the back of his pants and looked at it, wiping his nose with the sleeve of his hoodie. It seemed fitting, he thought. His dad’s gun had just one round in it. It was all he needed.

* * *

 

Derek hated cleaning. Not things like cleaning up after making a meal. No, he hated going through shit and deciding what to get rid of. Not that he had a lot of stuff, far from it. He had the essentials. But he had to admit that he’d gotten into a habit of collecting items since he’d settled down. And he was embarrassed to realize that he had been collecting clothes, of all things.

He’d finally settled down in a small town outside of Seattle. He’d been accepted into the local pack and had been happy for the most part. There was a part of him that felt incomplete, like he’d left something back in Beacon Hills. But he’d needed to leave, his life had depended on it. If he’d stayed he’d have done himself in.

He dug through his closet pulling out clothes he hadn’t worn in almost a year, tossing them into a pile to give to Goodwill. As he worked he realized there was box in the back corner and he vaguely remembered it was some of his things from back home. Before he knew it he was sitting on the floor and pulling out items that had survived the fire. Old photos of his family that had been singed in the fire. Some photos of the pack. He found one that made him smile immediately, automatically remembering the incident. He looked at the picture of Stiles laughing, head thrown back with his neck exposed, hands wrapped around his belly. Derek was next to him, a frown on his face. His marinara covered face. It had been April Fools Day and Derek hadn’t realized it until he discovered that a small explosive device could cause a pot of sauce to suddenly erupt. Stiles had asked him to check on it and just as he’d lifted the lid and bent over, boom. Stiles had laughed for the rest of the day at that. It had taken Derek a bit longer to find the humor in it, but he had. And he’d managed to get Stiles back later that night, so it had all worked out.

As he dug around his hands felt something and he pulled it out. He couldn’t believe it, he’d had the stupid thing this whole time! He looked at his old cell phone, crunched and cracked beyond repair. He’d thought he’d lost it in the jungle that day. It had been a year ago. He’d been with Cora down in Costa Rica. They had fought a pack of wendigos and his phone had fallen victim to the fight. He thought it had been left behind but apparently he’d had it with him. He jumped up, looking at the wreckage of his phone and wondering if anything could be saved.

* * *

 

“Woah, dude, what in the world did you do to this thing?” Derek looked at the kid wearing a name badge that read Devin and thinking he wasn’t about to tell him a wendigo had had a go at his phone.

“Yeah, um I guess I ran over it by accident? Is there any chance you’d be able to retrieve any of the data? Especially the photos?” Derek was hoping that the Genius Bar at his local Apple Store was more than just a name. He’d had a ton of photos on that phone from his time with Cora, and he’d give anything to get them back.

“Yeah dude, maybe. I dunno man, it’s pretty trashed. Let me take it in the back and have them take it apart and see. Cool? Not sure what it’s gonna cost you though man.” Derek waved him on, telling him to try. Honestly he’d be willing to pay just about anything if it meant having his photos. He poked around the store as he waited, watching the blue shirts helping customers, playing on the displays of Mac Books and looking at the over-priced accessories. Finally about thirty minutes later Devin came back out, walking towards Derek with a small tray and the remains of his phone inside.

“OK dude, so we may be able to do this. The main board was probably the only thing not completely messed up. Do you have another iPhone on you?”

Derek gritted his teeth at being called “dude”, but if it meant his data could be retrieved then he’d deal. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and handed it to Devin. Devin made noises of happiness at seeing Derek had the latest top of the line iPhone before plugging it into some sort of device.

“So, I’m gonna plug your phone in here, and the board from your old phone is plugged in as well and we’ll see if we can get your phone to read the data on it.” Derek just smiled at this kid, he had no clue what Devin was doing. After a minute Devin fist pumped and showed Derek that his new phone was able to read the old data and gave the go ahead to have all of the data recovered onto his new phone. It took several minutes to download and a few more to do whatever it was Devin needed to do before he unplugged it and handed it back to Derek. His phone immediately began to ding with incoming messages as it updated and Derek knew he’d be there for a while going through it all.

After finishing up Derek headed home. He quickly walked into his kitchen before pulling his phone out and sitting down to go through it. He clicked on his camera app and opened up the photos and was ecstatic to see all of the photos he’d taken last year sitting there in the folder. He smiled as he scrolled through shots of Cora, of the two of them, and some of her pack. After getting to the last one he closed it out and noticed he had a couple hundred text messages and almost as many missed calls. He snorted, not about to go through them all when he suddenly changed his mind. He pulled up his messages app and scrolled through the names before stopping on one specific name.

There were several text messages from Stiles, sent over the year. Derek opened them, scrolled to the first one and began reading. He was about halfway through when he felt his level of concern growing rapidly. Stiles was sending texts that he believed Derek would never read. In fact he’d even said so in a couple of them. Stiles was alluding to having feelings for Derek, and Derek was having a hard time reading the texts. He’d always had a thing for Stiles but had tried his damndest to kill them. Stiles had been too young and Derek refused to do to Stiles what Kate had done to him. It had been part of why he left. He’d never realized Stiles had felt the same.

But that was the least of Derek’s worries because most of what he was reading was truly alarming and Derek felt his wolf becoming more and more outraged as he read. What the fuck was McCall thinking?? Derek read about the treatment Stiles was receiving from the rest of the pack, his being outcast amongst the wolves. Derek would’ve taken a human Stiles over any of the McCall betas, and even McCall himself any day. How could they not see that? But that, that was all nothing, it paled in comparison to the very last text message Stiles had sent. The one that caused Derek’s heart to almost stop, caused his wolf to roll over and go belly up. He found himself shaking his head, denying what he was reading. The words were ripping his heart into millions of tiny pieces and Derek let a sob escape him as he read.

 

_{Stiles} To: Sourwolf 11/23 02:47_

_Derek_

_I, I can’t even…I’m done. I literally have nothing left to live for. They killed him Derek. My dad, my dad is gone, just like that. Oh my god Derek. I don’t know what to do. They killed him. I watched as it happened. Why. WHY THE FUCK DID THEY KILL MY DAD DEREK????WHY???????? He was the only thing I had left. I have nothing. First you left, then fucking Scott kicks me out because of his fucking mother Teresa morals now this??? The only thing I have left is his gun. Its all I need now. I’m done. I’m sorry Sourwolf. I loved you, you know? I should’ve told you._

Derek was breathing hard, practically on the edge of a panic attack. He found himself re-reading the last message as his panic built up. By the time he was done he was pacing the room, his wolf was howling at him to take action. But was it too late? There was only one way to find out. He ran into his bedroom and grabbed a duffel bag before opening his dresser drawers and stuffing clothes in. There was no rhyme or reason to what he picked, he didn’t care. Couldn’t be bothered to fold, just shoved them in zipped up the bag and grabbed his keys off the table as he headed out to his truck as he mentally calculated whether flying or driving would be faster.

* * *

 

He was breaking the speed limit pretty ferociously as he screamed through downtown Beacon Hills but he didn’t give a flying fuck. He had tunnel vision as he flew past the familiar town, past what used to be his loft and was now some high end condo building. He honked and swerved his way around cars, ignoring the glares and people flipping him the bird for cutting them off. None of them mattered. None of them. He’d tried calling Stiles dozens of times only to be immediately connected his to voicemail.

His heart rate sped up as he turned onto the road that the Stilinskis lived on. He could see the house but there were no cars in the driveway. He didn’t slow down as he flew up the driveway and hit the brakes hard, throwing his door open as he jumped out. As he ran up to the door he could barely make out a lone heart beat. It was weak and stuttered. Derek pounded on the door, ignoring the dust and creaks it made. He’d break the fucking door if he had to. When no one answered he pounded again, yelling out Stiles’ name. He heard the heart beat skip, but again no one answered. Derek stepped back before running at the door and throwing all of his wolf strength into it, the door shattering inward in a cloud of wood and splinters.

Derek realized he had wolfed out but as he focused his eyes on the figure standing in the hallway he let his shift receded. Stiles stood there, but for a moment Derek thought it was someone else. He was almost emaciated, his face drawn. He had dark circles under his eyes, his lips were chapped and his dirty clothes hung off of his frame.

“Derek?”

Derek looked at him, his heart breaking for the boy. He stood tall, his wolf pacing with the need to protect and comfort. He strode up to him just as Stiles moved forward, towards Derek. Derek enveloped him in a hug while Stiles gripped his shirt tightly, holding on for dear life. Derek cupped the back of Stiles’ head and rocked him, trying to communicate everything he needed to say in that hug. He could hear Stiles mumbling into his neck that he ‘couldn’t do it’, and that was when he noticed the nine millimeter Glock laying on the table.

Derek pulled back just enough to place a kiss on Stiles’ forehead.

“Pack your bags, you’re coming home with me.”

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> So I have no idea if people at the Apple Genius Bar can actually do what "Devin" does in my story. If not, just roll with it and adopt your "willing suspension of disbelief" lol.


End file.
